


Quibbles and Wobbles

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [14]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon, Trip, T’Pol, and Mal have dinner in the Captain’s Mess. It goes worse than last time. Cross gelatin off the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quibbles and Wobbles

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            "You're gonna like dinner tonight, buddy," Trip promised Mal with an enthusiastic grin.

            Mal looked up from where he sat on the floor, determinedly sucking on a bread stick. "Really?"

            Trip's smile faded slightly as he watched Mal. "Yes, really. But don't eat that like that, okay?" he added, gesturing to the bread stick. "Break off a piece like I showed you before."

            "Okay," Mal agreed readily. He snapped the bread stick awkwardly, about half of it turning into crumbs on his shirt and the floor. "This is a very messy food," he observed with distaste. "Why can't I eat it like I was before? I think it was getting softer."

            "It—looks too obscene," Trip tried to explain, tensing a little in his chair. _Here_ was a conversation he didn't want to be having.

            "In what way?" Mal persisted curiously, maneuvering every crumb onto his napkin for later disposal.

            Trip squirmed. How did he get into these situations, when all he wanted was a nice dinner? "Well, um, it looks, erm, inappropriate."

            "Why?"

            At that moment the door to the Captain's Mess hissed open and Trip decided to turn his own embarrassment into someone else's. "Let's ask Captain Archer," he suggested quickly.

            "Ask Captain Archer what?" the Captain questioned suspiciously, sitting down at the head of the table.

            "I was just tryin' to explain to Mal why his suckin' on a bread stick looks obscene," Trip told him, grinning wickedly. "Care to help me out with that one?"

            Trip was pleased to see his friend redden slightly under Mal's inquiring gaze. "Um, well—that's an interesting question," Archer finally stammered.

            Mal was looking at them both in confusion. "Would it be more appropriate if I just licked it?" he asked innocently, demonstrating. "Or perhaps just nibbled it around the edges?"

            "No, no," Trip and Jon replied quickly, amid much coughing and flushing.

            "Just, um, snap it off and chew on it, Mal," Trip choked out once again. One glance at Jon told him both their minds were now hopelessly heading to the gutter and they tittered like schoolboys.

            Of course T'Pol chose that moment to enter. The two officers cancelled their sniggering under her cool gaze and hopped to their feet. At Trip's signal Mal scrambled up as well, barely getting to his feet before T'Pol had been seated and everyone sat back down again.

            "Captain, Commander, Mal," she greeted. "I—"

            "Hello," Mal piped from the floor.

            T'Pol paused only briefly. "I apologize for my lateness, I was attending to a minor incident on the Bridge involving the sensor realignment."

            And didn't _that_ sound like the intro to the most boring story ever. Archer immediately waved off her apology. "No need to explain," he assured her. Really. "We hadn't even started yet. We were just, um, chatting." Sharing a smirking look with Trip, he quickly added, "I'll just call the steward," and jumped up to signal the kitchen from the comm box.

            A moment later the steward entered, solicitous as always, to take their drink orders before vanishing again. Archer opened his mouth to start a new topic of conversation when Mal popped up on his knees, looking over the table top, and said brightly, "Commander T'Pol, I have a question for you."

            "Please continue," T'Pol allowed, although Trip had a bad feeling about this.

            "Why does it look obscene when I do this?" And Mal began, well, doing obscene things to his remaining bread stick half.

            Trip yanked the abused appetizer from Mal's hand (and mouth), appalled. "Sit back down," he snapped, his earlier humor vanishing. "I told you not to do that!"

            "But I don't understand _why_ ," Mal complained, hurt and petulant.

            "You don't _have_ to understand why, just do what I said," Trip ordered him peevishly.

            There was a pause around the table. "The behavior you were demonstrating with the bread stick, Mal, is reminiscent of a form of sexual activity commonly performed on males of certain species, including humans," T'Pol explained in a bland tone. Jon and Trip froze, staring at her open-mouthed. "In this sex act the partner stimulates the male by taking his penis into his or her mouth—"

            "Oh my G-d, stop!" Trip demanded, horrified. He clapped his hand over Mal's ear, pulling the other against his thigh awkwardly. "What are you doing?!"

            "I am merely answering the question that was put to me," T'Pol responded, one eyebrow slightly raised. "You appear uncomfortable, Commander. Were you not aware of how to perform oral sex on a human male?"

            "Your iced tea, sir," the steward announced suddenly, setting a glass before the beet-red Captain. Archer was starting to wonder how the stewards always knew when the worst possible time to re-enter the room was.

            Awkward silence reigned until the drinks had all been delivered and the steward left. "As I was saying—" T'Pol began, but Trip cut her off again.

            "You can't just—just _say_ those things in front of Mal!" Trip insisted. "He's—um—too young for that kinda talk!"

            "I am simply attempting to provide Mal with an educational and non-emotional response to his inquiry," T'Pol shot back calmly. "Perhaps you would have preferred to continue snickering at him?"

            "Well—um—no," Trip tried uncomfortably, and unconvincingly. "I mean, uh, you know, we just haven't had that Talk yet, so…" He rubbed the back of his neck, not making eye contact with anyone.

            "Talk?" T'Pol queried, noting Trip's emphasis of the word. "About sexual activity and reproduction?"

            "Um, yeah," Trip agreed faintly. "That talk." Archer smirked even as he sympathized with his friend's predicament—as he had not forgotten that Trip had so recently attempted to foist the embarrassing conversation on _him_.

            "Oh, I know all about sex," Mal told them confidently. Jon and Trip stared at him in surprise.

            "You do? Who told you?" Trip demanded.

            "Dr. Phlox," Mal answered easily. "He showed me some diagrams."

            "Oh, G-d," Trip shuddered. Then another thought occurred to him. "Well if you know so much about it, how come you didn't get the bread stick thing, huh?" he challenged.

            Mal gave him a look. "It's a bread stick. Why would that make me think of sex?"

            T'Pol raised an eyebrow at Trip as if to say, _Why,indeed?_ but he ignored her. "Well now you know _why_ you shouldn't do it, so can you please drop the subject?"

            "Well, I don't _really_ understand why—"

            "Just drop it!" Trip insisted edgily. There were just certain conversations that shouldn't go on so long with certain audiences.

            There was nothing inappropriate for the steward to overhear when he returned with their meals, because no one had said _anything_ for a good two minutes. Mal was pouting, Trip was tense, and T'Pol frankly _preferred_ to eat her food in silence, as was traditional among Vulcans. And Archer simply couldn't think of anything to say that could top the previous discussion.

            Mal finally broke the silence. "What's this called?" he asked, staring at his plate.

            "It's a hamburger, Mal, with french fries," Trip told him, trying hard to sound patient. "You've had it before. You like it."

            "I meant this… red stuff," Mal clarified, suspicion building into distaste.

            "That is gelatin," Archer supplied helpfully. "My mother used to give it to me all the time when I was younger."

            "Mine, too!" Trip agreed brightly. "Strawberry is definitely the best flavor." He glanced down at Mal. "And see? This has chunks of fruit in it. You like fruit."

            Mal lifted his plate to eye level and shook it lightly, watching the pile of red gelatin vibrate. "It's wobbly," he complained.

            "So?" Trip replied without concern. "It's _supposed_ to be wobbly. It's gelatin."

            "I can't eat _wobbly_ food!" Mal protested.

            "I was not aware 'wobbliness' constituted one of your food allergies, Mal," T'Pol remarked dryly.

            "It's not that he _can't_ eat it," Trip corrected, more for Mal's benefit than T'Pol's. "It's just that he _won't_. Come on, one bite won't hurt you."

            "One bite of the pecan pie nearly _killed_ me," Mal reminded him with a sniff.

            "Well, h—l, Sickbay's just around the corner," Trip retorted flippantly.

            Mal let out a wail of protest that made them all jump. "Mal, Mal, Trip was just joking," Archer assured him, patting his shoulder. "Weren't you, Trip?" he added pointedly. Trip opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and shrugged, which Archer knew meant he wasn't _really_ joking but he wasn't going to argue with his Captain about it. Archer decided to pretend it was a straight 'yes,' however. "You see?" he insisted to Mal, who did not look like he had fallen for the ruse in the least.

            "You're not allergic to gelatin, anyway," Trip pointed out finally. "Or anything in it." Mal snorted, unconvinced, and began to eat his hamburger.

            "So, T'Pol," Archer began after he was certain the gelatin incident was past, "how was your day?"

            "The events with which I was involved fell within acceptable parameters," she reported, spearing a piece of greenery from her vegetarian dish.

            "Good," Archer commented pleasantly. "Trip?"

            An inarticulate mumble met Archer's question as Trip attempted to talk around a mouthful of hamburger. "Captain," T'Pol inquired quickly, "are we still endeavoring to model socially acceptable table manners for Mal?"

            Archer saw where she was going with this and answered with a straight face, "Why yes, T'Pol, we are. Why do you ask?"

            "I believe in most human cultures, it is considered rude to speak with one's mouth full of food," she replied casually, as though this idea had occurred to her out of the blue.

            "I believe you're right, T'Pol," Archer agreed innocently. He turned deliberately to the other person at the table. "Trip, what do _you_ think?"

            The engineer glared at them for a moment, then took his sweet time chewing and swallowing before he answered. "Must not be a Florida thing," he told them airily. Archer smirked while T'Pol narrowed her eyes somewhat.

            Still, the Vulcan sensed there was no progress to be made on this topic and switched to a new one. "Commander, I am curious about something."

            "Does it involve bread sticks?" Mal piped from the floor.

            "Shut. Up," Trip shot back.

            "No, it does not," T'Pol responded politely, in contrast to the engineer. "I was merely wondering, Commander, if you had abandoned your goal of teaching Mal to sit properly at the table."

            Trip coughed a little. "Uh, no, not at all," he assured her quickly—too quickly. Archer looked amused. "We're just working on that issue—separately. You know, sitting at the table"—he held up one hand—"other table manners"—he held up the other hand—"and then the projects will converge." Trip brought his hands together. "Into a seamless whole." Had they been alone, Jon would have coughed "bulls—t" at this point.

            T'Pol appeared extremely skeptical. "That is an ambitious plan, Commander."

            "Yes," Archer deadpanned, "perhaps you could draw us a diagram." Trip gave him a look.

            T'Pol, of course, knew exactly how to obtain the information she wanted. "Mal, have you practiced sitting in chairs properly with Commander Tucker since your first meal here?"

            "No," Mal answered promptly from the floor. T'Pol raised an eyebrow at Trip, who rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," Mal added, sounding distressed as he picked up on Trip's emotions. "Was I not supposed to say that?"

            "Don't worry about it, buddy," Trip assured him, patting his head. When he turned back to the table, however, the other diners were still regarding him expectantly. "Well, he just doesn't like it!" Trip insisted defensively. "He just whines and complains if I want him to sit flat on his—um, backside."

            "He's right, I do," Mal agreed sympathetically.

            "Discipline, Commander Tucker, is an essential part of any training process," T'Pol remarked coolly.

            Archer could see the fight building in Trip's eyes and hurried to head it off. "Trip, how's your food?"

            "Oh, for a pile of ground-up animal flesh I'm eatin' with my hands, it's pretty d—n good," Trip replied saucily, staring straight at T'Pol.

            "Good," Archer commented, forcibly bland. "T'Pol, how is _your_ meal?"

            "For a nutritionally-suspect dish prepared by a human, it is not unpleasant," she answered icily, eyes on Trip.

            "Ask me, ask me!" insisted Mal excitedly.

            "Uh, Mal, how is your meal?" Archer said dubiously.

            "It's quite delicious, although rather squelchy and messy, but overall lovely except for the nasty horrible wobbly thing on the plate," Mal informed them.

            "Fantastic," Archer answered. He sifted through his mind for more distraction techniques. "Uh, Trip, did I tell you about the star cluster we'll be passing by tomorrow? It's a rare quaternary system with seven planets and an asteroid belt…"

            Trip didn't care _that_ much about astronomical phenomena. And T'Pol already knew everything Archer revealed, because she was the one who had told it to him. But at least his semi-intentional rambling gave his two officers time to cool off, and even, in a small way, united them against their droning Captain. After just a few minutes of graphic astrophysical details about the nearby system, Trip and T'Pol were more than willing to talk to anyone, even each other, about _anything_ else.

            They were all even chuckling over a story Trip had told a few minutes later—well, T'Pol wasn't chuckling, of course, but her body language indicated she didn't find the amusement unwarranted—when a hand reached up from the floor and pulled a french fry off Trip's plate. Trip blinked down at the culprit for a minute, then stretched over and snitched a fry from Jon's plate in turn.

            "Is it considered proper etiquette among humans to eat food from another person's plate?" T'Pol inquired. It was clear where Vulcans stood on the issue.

            "Only if you're really good friends," Trip replied, grinning wickedly at Jon.

            The Captain gave him a dark look in return. "Oh, I don't know," he offered warningly. "In some places stealing a man's french fries is a hanging offense." Trip just smirked, unrepentant.

            "What is the offense hanging _on_?" Mal asked curiously.

            "Alright, we are _definitely_ not getting into _that_ topic at dinner," Trip decided.

            "Agreed," Archer told him.

            "I concur," T'Pol added.

            A little while later their plates were mostly empty and Trip at least was looking forward to dessert. The way _he_ saw it, there was just one hurdle left to overcome. But it was a big one.

            "Just try _one_ bite, that's it," Trip repeated.

            "But it's _wobbly_!" Mal repeated as well.

            "Wobbly is good! Wobbly is fun!" Trip insisted. "You can pick it up and shake it around and slurp it down… Just like this." He scooped a remaining blob of gelatin off his plate with his fingers, dangled it above his mouth for a few seconds, and finally dropped it in. "Yum!"

            "That's so disgusting," Mal opined. T'Pol appeared inclined to agree.

            "I can't imagine what gelatin night in the Tucker household was like," Archer remarked dryly.

            "Lotta napkins," Trip assured him. "Come on, just _one_ bite, then dessert. Which is—" He looked at Archer expectantly.

            "Chocolate cake."

            "—chocolate cake," Trip finished. "You like chocolate cake." Mal nodded slowly. "And all you gotta do to get it is have _one_ bite of the gelatin."

            It all sounded so reasonable when Trip put it that way. Mal sliced off the smallest allowable piece of gelatin with his fork and brought it closer to his mouth. The unnaturally red, shiny substance quivered moistly, like a vicious creature twitching before the attack, like a pile of fat stripped from a freshly-killed _targ_ , like a parasite trembling with desire to penetrate the body's defenses. Mal sat there, mouth open, fork frozen in place.

            "Oh, don't make him eat it, he looks like he's going to be sick," Archer suggested mercifully.

            Trip gave his friend a hard look. "Discipline, Captain, is an essential part of any training process," he parroted expertly.

            "Indeed," T'Pol agreed.

            Everyone turned on Mal again, though he clearly hoped he'd been forgotten. Trip gave him a look that said, _Don't be a baby! Eat the gelatin!_ T'Pol gave him a look that said, _It is not logical to fear something because it wobbles_. Even Archer gave him a look, though his was closer to, _Might as well hurry up and get it over with. Plus, chocolate cake!_ Sensing he had no allies, Mal closed his eyes and deposited the gelatin in his mouth.

            "See, that's good stuff," Trip concluded proudly. He faced Archer. "Your ma ever cut out shapes in the gelatin with cookie cutters? We used to do that all the time—"

            Archer wasn't looking at his friend. "Uh, Trip?" he said nervously, glancing at Mal.

            Trip looked back as well. "Ah, s—t," he sighed, jumping from his seat. He grabbed Mal's arm and hauled him over to the sink just in time for the other man to heave up one hamburger, a number of french fries, and, presumably as Trip wasn't going to look very closely, one small bite of gelatin.

            "I'm sorry," Mal sniffed in a small voice. "It was just too wobbly and horrible."

            "It's okay, buddy," Trip told him. He thought maybe this ought to become his new catchphrase. Archer passed them Mal's glass of water so he could rinse his mouth out a little, while Trip rubbed his shoulders soothingly.

            "That ever happen in Vulcan training programs?" Archer asked T'Pol idly. For some reason he just didn't feel like finishing that last bite of hamburger.

            "Occasionally," she admitted, pushing her not-quite-empty plate away.

            The door from the galley slid open. Of course. "Can I offer anyone des—" The steward broke off as he noticed the mess in the sink.

            "Let's add gelatin to the list of things he doesn't eat, okay?" Trip suggested tiredly.

            "Very good, sir."


End file.
